A Morning Mystery
by lena1987
Summary: Complete. It was a conundrum. And Severus had missed a good problem – a good mystery. But this was a mystery cloaked in inappropriate linings; it would be prudent to not think about Vector's Apprentice during his morning tea, but he found that he couldn't quite muster up enough indignation to bother with stopping. HG/SS.
_A little something for Banglabou who happens to be my beta, so if there are any errors, you'll have to blame me!_

* * *

 **A Morning Mystery**

He thought about it more than he should, surely.

The Headmaster mulled it over on Tuesday morning; he dipped a biscuit into his second coffee of the day and forgot to pull it out in time. It turned into a soggy mess; he was unimpressed, and rather miffed.

On Thursday, he speculated over dinner. He watched her hands, her delicate fingers, and frowned. She mistook his pensive expression for disapproval and dropped her fork. He pretended not to notice, though it was impossible to ignore the way her porcelain cheeks flushed a becoming shade of red.

It was a conundrum. A pleasant conundrum, to be sure, but something to be analysed nonetheless. And Severus had missed a good problem – a good _mystery._ But this was a mystery cloaked in inappropriate linings; it would be prudent to _not_ think about Vector's Apprentice during his morning tea, but he found that he couldn't quite muster up enough indignation to bother with stopping.

Hermione Granger was a puzzle indeed.

.

.

It had begun innocently, as these things were wont to do. He'd been sitting at breakfast, distracted by the morning paper. Barely any students had deemed it worth their while to struggle out of bed so early on a Sunday, and so the Hall was blissfully empty. As a treat, he flicked his wand and charmed the ceiling to change to a bright blue sky with the tops of palm trees waving in the air; a nice change for December, and the little grots were missing it. He chuckled under his breath.

"Oh, very nice!" a clear voice praised from the sidelines, heralding the clicking of Granger's shoes. He tensed at the table and glared at his plate. There was no one else at the table, though she selected her usual chair, towards the right end. "I said," she repeated, disgruntled, "it's very nice, Headmaster."

"Hmmnnnn."

"Headmaster?"

"Many thanks, Apprentice," he grumbled, tapping his fingers on the tablecloth. He heard her give a little huff of annoyance and stifled a self-satisfied grin. Sunday mornings were dull, slow things – a rise out of Granger would be sure to put a spring in his step.

She tried again, as he knew she would. "Is this inspired by somewhere you've been?"

He almost spat out his mouthful of coffee. Forcing it down his throat, he turned to her and rested an elbow on the table. "And what," he said to the daring witch, "gives you the impression that I have been to such places?"

She tossed her head and he watched as her hair glinted gold for a fleeting moment. With narrowed eyes he examined the curls; they were mad, and, he'd thought, off-putting. But here in the Hall, there was a certain charm to them, a…grace. A haphazard, unintentional grace. He steepled his fingers and wondered how it would feel to select one strand, stretch it out, then let it bounce back like a cork on the tide.

"Oh, I don't know," she said breezily. She was all woman, all curves and secretive smiles, and it made his mouth dry. "Just a thought."

He glowered at her. "An incorrect thought."

Granger merely hummed, one eyebrow raised, and went back to her tea.

Severus watched her from under his lashes for the entirety of breakfast. He was unsure of himself, feeling left-footed with the self-assured woman. He decided that employing a mature aged Apprentice was a bloody farce – Granger was treating him like one of her teenagers! And sure enough, when the eldest traipsed in with a book in front of her face, the witch watched her with that same easy confidence that she'd used to try and entrap him.

"Remind me why we began the program," he complained to Poppy, who had plonked herself into the chair at his left. "She's—she's—" He gave up.

"She's _what_?" Poppy demanded, rolling her eyes. "She's wonderful! Oh, how lovely it would be to have such a dedicated Apprentice! Not like mine," she sniffed, "stumbling in on Monday mornings with a hangover from a ' _fully sick weekend_!'" In unison, Headmaster and Nurse spluttered and reached for more coffee.

"Indeed," said Severus eventually, rolling his shoulders. "I suppose you might be right."

"I _am_ right," Poppy declared. "And I want one too, mind you. As soon as the boy's out, I'm bringing in Ginny Weasley."

The Headmaster smirked. "Are you now? You seem assured of your success. These mature Apprentices don't come cheap, you know."

"You know as well as I do that the baby boom has meant an increased enrollment, and ergo more money than even you know what to do with. Get me Ginny Weasley."

"I'll think about it," he growled, waving a hand in the air. "Back to Granger. She's insufferable!"

"She's perfect!"

"A sticky beak!"

"Friendly."

"Up herself."

"Severus! Really! She's _confident._ "

"Got nice hair though," he mumbled, forgetting himself. Beside him, Poppy chortled.

"'Course she does, boy. She doesn't wear her wedding ring anymore, either. Have you noticed?"

"Hm?" He looked up. "No." _Interesting._ With one furtive glance, black eyes slid over to inspect her fingers once again. He tilted his head, engrossed. The sleeves of her purple cardigan reached to just before her wrists and her hair was now so long that curls were trapped between her arm and waist. She was talking to Rose, who had popped up for a morning visit with her mother, and her attention was so far away that he allowed himself the chance to really study her.

She certainly was a woman to watch. Her hands flew through the air as she expressed herself, and she laughed often. Her hair, too – that moved as she did, her curls bouncing around, slipping over her back. Granger really was quite…lovely. He was unprepared for the internal revelation; it almost took his breath away, though he soon lost his train of thought in favour of—what on _earth?_

Her fingers were busy. On the table, they were moving back and forth, dancing over – _what?_ She was holding something—something invisible—and he leaned forward in his chair, scowling at the nothingness. No matter how he tried, it did not reveal itself. Instead he watched as she chatted to the girl, her fingers moving to her face for a moment before returning to the table.

Severus sat back, perplexed. What was the woman up to, hiding something in his own Hall? Poppy said something but he missed it completely, lost in an opportunity he hadn't had in years: to _discover._

 _._

 _._

He watched her all week. When she wasn't holed up in her small office working on her Master's project, she was learning the ropes of teaching or running rings around the other Apprentices during their weekly check-in meetings that he wished he hadn't initiated. It _was_ a good program, despite what he'd said to Poppy. Severus was proud of his hand in it; after the War, many had simply gone into the Ministry, or started families, or sidled into jobs that didn't suit them. Hogwarts hadn't been where talented students wanted to stay, due to their memories. He understood that – it had taken him a year to even return as Headmaster, after all.

Granger had been a rising star in the Ministry, though she'd been one of the first to send in an application when they'd started the program. Both Rose and Hugo had already entered Hogwarts, so he knew it wasn't about being closer to the children, but more of a…thirst. She'd arrived bright-eyed and eager, and by all reports had taken the castle by storm. That she was paid almost as well as an experienced teacher was nothing in the end – she had an interesting history, and he knew that they were lucky to have her. And it worked out well for all involved; because of her extensive work experience, the Apprenticeship was only set for two years compared to the usual four. They'd have a fully qualified Mistress in Arithmancy in thirteen more months and Vector could finally retire, handing her position over to someone she could have full confidence in.

Severus set down his quill and pushed himself back from the desk. His Muggle chair—one indulgence; he took a juvenile thrill from rolling himself around the office—was far too comfortable and as such, far too encouraging of having a good thinking session.

His examinations of her had yielded exactly nothing. Oh, he'd discovered that she'd been in the habit of sending him coquettish glances and touching his arm if they passed in the hall— _how long had that been going on, anyway?_ —but he still didn't know what she was toying with. He'd catch her doing it every so often; turning something over in her hands, her thumbs almost…scrubbing.

He hummed. Perhaps he wasn't supposed to know – he was making himself into a fool, staring at the woman all day, every day. Ridiculous.

"Headmaster?"

"What?" he grunted, head now bent again over a list of figures for the board meeting next week. The portrait of Fred the Brave—the boy's self-appointed title—cleared his throat.

"Headmaster! Oi!"

"Whatever is it, boy?"

"Someone to see you, sir," said Fred, having evidently left his main portrait near the Gargoyle to inform him of the visitor. It was an informal arrangement, but a profitable one—Severus had a few laughs, and the Weasley boy got to access the one room that most regular portraits were barred from.

"Ah." He cocked an eyebrow. "Elaborate."

Fred only shrugged, as Severus was already standing. He could hear the clicking of her low-heeled shoes, and that could only mean one woman.

If he was another man, he'd fiddle with his cuffs, but as it were, Severus stood stock still and glowered at the door. His heart was pounding and his palms were damp; he took one deep breath in, and then she was there.

"Oh." Granger looked at his glare and faltered. "Hello."

"Hello," he ground out.

They stared at each other awkwardly, and then she shifted on her feet. "May we have a chat?"

"A chat?" he repeated, shooting one scathing look at Fred the Brave, currently sniggering behind a painted hand. "As you wish. Follow me," he directed, gesturing to the portraits who seemed very interested in what might or might not be unfolding. She took the hint and he opened the sitting room door for her, mouthing an expletive when her back was turned.

They sat. She took the chair near the fire, and he sat on the edge of the couch opposite. Neither said a word for several moments; his eyes were fixed somewhere over her shoulder, and hers were on his dragon-hide boots. Later she'd correct him – she was staring at the buttons on his trousers; only five in a line near his ankles, but the woman was transfixed.

"Granger?" he pressed eventually. "You wanted to…"

"Oh!" She fidgeted with her hair. "I did, uhm…"

"Well?"

"Ah…"

Suddenly he blurted, "You're hiding something from me, and I want to know what it is." Stunned at himself, Severus blanched. "That is, _aherrmmn,_ I'd like to know if you are using…" _Bloody buggering bollocks._

But Granger only laughed; a joyous peal of laughter that was peppered with inelegant hoots. Caught in her web, Severus leaned forward with elbows on knees and demanded, " _What_?"

"I'm sorry," she breathed, rubbing at her bright red cheeks. She was smiling, her sharp looking teeth framed between plump pink lips. He wrenched his gaze back to her eyes but he knew that she'd registered his blatant interest in her mouth. "Sorry," she said again, quietly this time.

Her fingers were fiddling again and Severus reached out with both hands and grasped them. He felt it then, the cool plastic, and he blinked. "Is that it? Are you mad, woman?"

"A little," she confessed, blushing again. He tightened his grip on the object and, intentionally, her hands. Her skin was warm and he liked it.

"All of this fuss," he said gently, "for a pair of spectacles?"

"Call them glasses," she implored between titters. "I already feel like a dinosaur!"

Barking out a laugh, Severus shook his head. "You have been hiding your glasses? For what? Vanity?" A shred of disappointment coloured his tone and she winced.

"It sounds ridiculous, when you put it like that!" she exclaimed. "But… I didn't… I just…" She threw their hands up. When she settled, he took her fingers in his again, unaware that his thumb was rubbing circles on the back of her hand, and unaware that she was consumed by it. "It's hard," she confessed in a whisper. "I'm newly divorced, I'm in my late forties, I'm in a castle full of statuesque teenagers! And the glasses are _ghastly -_ everyone else seems to look so put-together with them, so classic, except for me. I feel _old,_ and I don't like it."

Severus let out a long sigh. "Show me."

She drew back with a, "No! Christ, Severus!"

He sighed again and chuckled. "Show me, woman."

Slowly she brandished her wand and pointed it at her lap. Purple-rimmed glasses appeared with quaint little wings on the edge. Daring him to comment on her eclectic taste, she slid them onto her face. "There," she muttered.

Oh, but she was lovely indeed. He smirked, then thought better of it and touched one pale finger to the edge, close enough to feel the softness of her hair. "I don't know why you were so concerned." Then, because her mouth was slightly open and her eyes were gleaming, he confessed simply, "I like them."

"You do?" she asked, flustered.

Severus nodded. "I do. And though you do not require validation, I hope you'll decide to reveal them."

Her eyes behind the frames slid to his. "There was a notice-me-not charm on them, you know. They weren't just disillusioned."

He caught her meaning immediately. "Oh."

"Yes."

"Well…"

"I know."

"Do you?"

"Yes. You noticed. You…you noticed, despite the charm."

"I did." He crossed his legs and, his hands now free, balled his fists.

She watched him with a careful, easy smile. "You were watching me so much that the notice-me-not meant nothing."

He could only nod; it made her smile again, and his stomach flipped. With courage he didn't feel, he said gruffly, "I'd like to take you to dinner. Tonight."

" _Would you_?" she asked, beaming. "Really?"

He glared at her. "A yes or no would suffice."

"Oh!" said Hermione, clapping her hands together. "Yes! Of course. I'd like that very much."

"Right," said Severus. "Right, then. Good."

"Good," she agreed, adjusting her glasses.

 _Yes,_ he decided, his smirk widening to a grin. _This is good._

* * *

 _Fin._


End file.
